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This was a bad idea. Nope. The worst idea. Why did he let Robin talk him into this? Here Steve was, still in his work uniform, might he add? Something about Eddie not minding? He’s not sure, but he’s here, standing outside Sam Goody’s, hyping himself up to walk in and talk to the town freak and well-known drug dealer. Wow, he picked this one, huh?
Steve glances over toward Scoops’ and wonders if he should just turn back. It’ll piss Robin off, especially after he had her ask Eddie where he worked for him. He’ll be mopping floors for the rest of the week for that. But he just realized his feelings and maybe this was too soon. ‘You could get to know him better,’ his inner voice helpfully counters.
One internal battle later and Steve is steeling his nerves and shaking off his tenseness. He could do this. It was only Eddie, after all. Without another thought, on the matter, Steve’s legs are carrying him inside.
Eddie Munson expected a lot of different people to come into the store, but nothing prepared him to see Steve Harrington walk in. Dressed in his goddamn uniform, no less, and yet here he comes, all swagger and blinding smiles like he isn’t giving Eddie a brain aneurysm. In an instant, he’s up and bouncing on his heels, waving a hand in front of his face as if he’s sweating. “Am I dreaming? There’s no way Steve Harrington is walking into my store dressed like that. Is it hot in here? I feel faint.”
His dramatics does what it means to and rips a sweet snort from the other man, his eyes squinting with it and his nose scrunching. ‘Pretty,’ he thinks but shoves it away, stubborn. “You dream of me often, Munson?” Steve tilts his head, seemingly holding back a smile. That certainly threw Eddie off, his brain doing a record scratch and face prickling. He pulls at a piece of hair to shield himself. “Steve, you dog. As if I’d share the juicy details.” Eddie smirks at how wide Steve’s eyes get.
“So you do dream of me? Dirty. Maybe the ‘Freak’ title really is for something.”
“Don’t worry, darling, only over the clothes stuff. Cross my heart.” The older uses one hand to cross over his heart and holds the other beside his head in the air. He swears he sees Steve trip over his own feet, clearing his throat and passing a hand through his perfect hair. “Alright, whatever you say, man. But believe it or not, I didn’t come in for you.”
“How will I ever go on?”
“You could start by pointing me in the right direction of the cassettes.”
“What? Can’t his majesty find anything himself? Need a lowly peasant to show you the way.” Steve quirks a brow. “This is your job, after all. Have to admit... not the best customer service. I’m being insulted and denied. I can take my business elsewhere if it’s such an inconvenience to you.” Eddie still jumps up and around the counter despite Steve obviously playing this up, sighing, and backing away.
“No! I mean, let’s not get hasty.” Way to seem desperate.
“Careful, Munson. I might start to think you want me around.” You have no idea.
“Ah, ‘course not. Perhaps I just want to see what the great Steve Harrington listens to. Let me guess... 'Wham’?” It’s a beautiful sight to watch the other man’s face morph through different expressions, finally landing on a cute little defensive face, arms crossing to match. “What’s wrong with ‘Wham’?”
Eddie throws himself against the counter, running his hand over his face, exasperated. “Everything! Everything is wrong with ‘Wham’, Stevie! I—Jesus Christ, you listen to them, don’t you? Just when I thought you were a decent guy. Ya know what? Get out. Get out of my store.” He points towards the entrance, but Steve doesn’t budge, fixing him with an unimpressed gaze.
“Alright, dick, whatever but ‘Wham’ is good. Now show me where the goddamn tapes are. Please?” And damn it, if Steve added that small 'please' to everything he asked for, Eddie might just do anything for him. Yikes, Munson, that’s sad. Ugh, what is happening to him? “Well, who am I to say no to you? Right this way, my liege!”
“Still hate you using those stupid terms.”
“Tough shit. Now, what are we looking for? Something different, perhaps? Anything other than ‘Wham’?” Steve’s eyes disappear into the back of his skull, scoffing. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Munson. I heard a new ‘Tears for Fears’ album came out earlier this year. You have it?" This has Eddie stopping himself from screeching in outrage. Jesus Christ, how was this man the one he had feelings for? Feelings? Was that what he felt? Uh-uh, not happening right now. If he doesn't stop thinking about this, he will spiral.
"We have it... but! You have to buy something I recommend, or I’m not selling it to you."
“I don’t think you’re allowed to—“
“Ah-ah-ah! Deal or no deal?” He holds out his hand but Steve stares at it like it’s some sort of puzzle. “C’mon, Stevie, I don’t bite. Unless you ask all pretty.”
Eddie observes him, memorizing the shade of pink that takes over the other man’s face and how his lips part but no sound leaves, eyes still locked with his and filled with something Eddie is sure he’s only imagining. He will never get over the fact that he can throw flirtatious comments at Harrington and not get punched. Vaguely, he can feel his arm cramping, so he shakes his hand to get Steve’s attention.
It works and Steve is sighing, hands clasping together as he accepts the deal, catching Eddie off guard when Steve squeezes his hand, pulling him closer to look at the Metalhead through his lashes, a coy smile playing at his lips.
“Better pick something good, Eddie. I’d hate to be disappointed.”
Holyshitholyshitholyshit, Eddie’s mind short circuits, no—fries. He has to retreat before he loses all cool points and sends Steve running for the hills. C’mon, Munson, say something suave. You got this. “I—uh, yeah, I just need to go get your thing—album. One second.” And goddamn bolts to the back storage room like a bat out of hell. Yup, suave, consider him wooed. Especially the stuttering part. He’ll never forget the stuttering part. This will keep him up at night. It’s not like their back-and-forth flirting meant anything. Not to Steve, at least. Keep your head on straight. Ha! Now, to the task at hand. Eddie rifles through the boxes, finding ‘Tears for Fears’ in record time, cringing at it when for a split second the lights flickered above, once, twice, then nothing. Crappy electrical.
Waltzing back out with a confidence he isn’t sure he has, tape in hand, and a broad smile on his face. He sees Harrington still there, standing stock still. “Found it! You are in luck, Stevie. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long...” He finds his voice trailing off and grin disappearing when he notices the man in uniform’s breaths are sharper than they should be. “Steve?” Eddie tries to turn Steve toward him, which he does, but not without the other full-body flinching, staring at him but not—seeing him? Like he’s trapped in his head, somewhere else.
“Steve, hey, everything’s okay. You—You’re with me, in Sam Goody’s. Remember?” He gets no response as Steve keeps looking around, glancing at the light and still in fight-or-flight mode. Eddie’s hands hover awkwardly, unsure. “Uh, you are seriously freaking me out here, man. Can you please breathe, at least?”
Steve’s gaze locks onto his, panic seeping into his voice. “T-the lights, they—Eddie we need to leave. It could be back. You can’t get hurt—not like Barb, please.” It shakes Eddie down to his core how shaken up and downright petrified Steve looks in front of him, near to tears, scared of something. It’s Steve Harrington though, King of Hawkins High, a big jock, with rich parents who are gone on business trips all the time, giving him the entire house to himself to do... anything he wanted. Steve Harrington, who had girls dropping their panties at the mere sight of him and all the guys wanting to be him, and in Eddie’s case, with him. Not the time, Munson.
“Stevie, look at me. Yeah, that’s good. Keep your eyes on mine, pretty boy. There is nothing coming to hurt anyone. It was just the lights fusing out. It’s happened before. ‘Kay?" Whatever he’s spouting seems to calm Steve down, the tension leaving, and shoulders sagging. His face morphed from fearful to tired. "Are—are you sure?”
Eddie relaxes with him. “Yes, I’m sure. It’s just you and me. But I’m flattered you care so much. My own Knight in shining shorts—oof!” A body collides with him and Eddie blinks, arms rising hesitantly to hold on to Steve in return. Though not as hard as Steve’s got him, his damn grip bordering on suffocating. But Eddie couldn’t bring himself to push him away if he tried, and why would he? He’s only been dreaming about this since High School. Maybe more skin-to-skin contact and fewer panic attacks, but he’ll take what he can get. Can you blame him? Steve is hot, outrageously so. And Eddie is only human.
“Hey, you okay now? I mean—that’s a stupid thing to ask. You just had a panic attack. But are you feeling... better?” Fucking nailed it. His oh-so-helpful inner voice snarks. Jesus, he hates himself sometimes.
As if someone had struck him, Steve pulled back, eyes wide and red-faced, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, man. I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that. I’m sorry, god, I’m such a fucking loser.” He scrubs at his face, a self-deprecating laugh forcing its way out of his mouth. Oh hell no, Eddie will not stand for this. He’s supposed to be the only self-hating loser here, thank you very much.
“There there Stevie, we are all merely human after all.” The words do little to relieve the awkward tension. Until Eddie hears in the distance, his radio stationed at the counter and playing the sweet music of Rock. “Now, I am no doctor or shrink, but I do know one thing...” Leaving Steve where he is and letting his words hang in the air for dramatic effect, Eddie fast walks over to the radio, turning up the volume.
“Eddie, what—“
“Music is the best medicine! Especially rock, baby!” The Metalhead grins something wicked, anything but graceful as he climbs onto the counter, delighting in the horror on Steve’s face. ‘Detroit Rock City’ blasts as Eddie air guitars, head banging to the music, mouthing the words. As if he were performing on stage. God, he loves the stage. Loves how at home he is rocking out, letting the world fall away, zeroing in on his guitar and the music so loud you can’t think. Not giving a shit that there’s no one listening, his wonderful crowd of a few drunks too inebriated to care. Except now he’s got a special little audience, the set of pretty eyes on him making his blood light up and his nerves buzz. And he’s not even performing for real. The dizzy excitement he gets amusing the idea of Steve watching him up on stage is enough to make him snap out of his head and look back towards the jock, who still seems in shock.
“Eddie, what the hell you are doing?” He calls over the music. Ah, not in shock anymore.
“Serenading you, Sweetheart! Why? Is it working?” Steve splutters, nervously glancing towards the entryway and windows where people pass by, throwing weird glances at them. “People are staring dipshit! You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Good thing I always love an audience.” Eddie shoots back with a wink and Steve’s blush deepens, making Eddie cackle. Eyes rolling when he sees Steve entering ‘Mom Mode’, arms crossing and brow pinching, but it doesn’t quite match the wonder in his eyes. “You’re gonna get security called on you.”
“They can try to take me! Now shut the fuck up. This is my favorite part.” Eddie bends down to turn it up more and sings along this time, still doing very accurate air guitar hand gestures, if he did say so himself. “Hit top speed but I’m still movin’ much too slow! I feel so good, I’m so alive!” He howls and doesn’t miss the way Steve scoffs, despite his entranced look.
“I hear my song playin’ on the radio, it goes... Get up!” Almost as if the music is controlling him, he hops with the command and crashes to his knees when they say ‘Get down’. It hurts like hell, kneecaps hitting the hardwood, but Eddie can’t get enough of it. Feels a little bad for startling Harrington though. Jumping back into a guitar solo, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth, focusing on the right cords. Maybe taking this stunt too far, but what is he if not a performer?
The song is coming to a close and Eddie knows he should wrap this up, anyway. Despite himself, Steve is right and some asshole probably will call security on him. Once again, following the commands of the singer, he jumps off the counter, eyes wild, ‘Get up’. And falls on his knees at Steve’s feet, ‘Get down’. KISS ends, leaving the room in short-lived silence other than Eddie’s heavy breaths, their gaze never leaving each other’s. Someone could cut the tension with a fucking knife. And because his life is one cosmic joke, the radio cuts the tension by starting another song.
“Shit!” Eddie all but sprints to lower the volume, breathing a sigh, and looks to the entrance. ‘No security guards called. Take that, Steve.’ Turning back to the man, Eddie fiddles with his rings and rocks on his heels. “So, Stevie, are you serenaded?”
Steve shakes his head, letting out a shaky sigh. “You are... fucking crazy.”
“We all go a little mad sometimes, Harrington.”
“You’re telling me,” Steve lets out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. Eddie finds himself tracking every little movement.
“Aren’t you supposed to be ‘educating’ me?”
“Hm? Oh! What the hell did you think that whole thing was? We are introducing you to ‘KISS’ first. It should be more your speed. Right?” He doesn’t bother looking back at the man hovering near him as he concentrates on finding a good album. “Uh, I guess. I liked the one that just played.” Steve mutters something else after that and Eddie is nosy so...
“You say somethin’?” A warm hand comes to rest on his hip and a breath ghosts against his ear, setting his fucking soul alight. “I said I liked the song. But I definitely like the look of you playing it better.” Holyshitholyshitholyshit, this man is going to send him into an early grave.
Eddie chokes out a cough, backing off an inch to reveal two tapes. “These are the best for starting. I mean, this is really standard shit. If you don't like it, there is no hope for you.” He’s really proud of himself for keeping his voice somewhat leveled with Steve staring at him like he is now, an endeared expression marring his face. Eddie wants to kiss it off—‘Woah.’
Steve looks between them both, contemplating it before nodding to himself once. “I’ll take both.”
“Both?”
“That’s what I said, yes.”
“Alright, douche. Just checking. Eager to learn the ropes?” Eddie teases back, gathering the tapes and moving to the register. He hears Steve follow behind him, the fabric of his shorts rustling, and he has to take a few breaths to calm himself. Old people, puppies, blood, and guts. The latter stops in front of Eddie on the other side, leaning forward. “Only for you, Munson.”
‘Oh.’ “Oh, uh, your total is twenty-three dollars and fifty cents.”
“Jesus, robbing me blind.”
“I put in a discount. Also, you didn’t have to buy both.”
“Wasn’t complaining.”
“Mm, kind of sounded like you were, Stevie.”
“Whatever,” Steve huffs, shoving the money at him, the slight smile giving him away once again. “Told you to cut it out with that ‘Stevie’ shit.”
“Not happening. It’s cute. Suits you,” Eddie smirks, not looking up as he puts away the cash, collecting the change. “Alright, then you get a name too. That’s fair, right?”
Wary, Eddie shrugs, “I... suppose.”
“Good. Because I think Eds is perfect. Don’t you, Eds?” He purrs out, feigning coyness. Eddie’s knees almost give out, jelly and useless. Now or never.
“Eds? Whatcha doing over there?”
“Rolling for persuasion.” He blurts out. Eddie wishes to stick his head in between his fridge and its door, then smash it again and again. “What?” Steve laughs, confused.
“Would you want to—I just think it’d be better to listen together—but ya know, that’s stupid. Ignore me.” Mortifying. A dumpster fire. Never show your face again.
But Steve, being teeth-grindingly nice, simply grins, tilting his head. “Not sure what you're asking, man.” Eddie straightens up and steels his nerves. “Would you listen to the tapes with me? Sometime? We could use my van and drive around.”
They stare at each other before he’s blinded by sparkly white teeth. “I’m free tomorrow. Does that work?” He... said yes?
“Yeah, that’s perfect. Fair warning, I’ll talk your ear off, dude. Full-on history lesson about the band.”
“Teacher. Sexy. Pick me up at three. We can jam out and get some food later on.” Eddie tracks the movement of Steve’s fingers drumming on the surface. “Teachers do it for you, huh? Perverted and scandalous, Stevie.” It earns him a scoff in response, the man still gazing at him. Eddie bags up his tapes and hands them over along with his change.
“Three, got it. Now get out of my store.”
“Wow. See if I ever come here again.” Steve wrinkles his nose, backing away. Eddie snorts, “Oh you’ll be back. I’m irresistible.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“I will, ‘cause it’s true.” Steve then turns around, waltzing out, giving Eddie a damn good view of his rear. “Bye, Eds!”
“Until the morrow, Stevie!” Just like that, he’s alone, and collapsing back into a chair, processing everything. Jesus H. Christ.
Steve rushes to tell Robin all about it as soon as he leaves the store. And if the next time he's working he notices one point under 'You Rule' on the board, well, no one else needs to know how hard he smiles.